Caught up in the Hope of Maybes
by jamie2109
Summary: Harry and Draco meet up again after more than six years when their children are ill. Misunderstandings and betrayals almost drive them apart again, but eventually the love of a little girl brings them back together. Warning past mpreg, nothing graphic
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not Mine;

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Author's Notes: Written for Livejournal's hdinspired mpreg fest. Only has past mpreg and nothing about the mechanics of mpreg for those a bit squeamish about mpreg as I am. Otherwise its really a romance; a coming together, finally, after misunderstandings and missed opportunities. Because you all know I am a closet romantic that adores angst. :) 

Enjoy and I'd really love to hear your thoughts on this story.

jamie

xxxx

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Part 1 of 2. 

His feet made slapping sounds as they hit the floor in dull repetition; loud, easily heard over James' quiet whimpering. Harry felt the tiny tremors in his son's slight body, cradled as he was in his arms. Each step he took, each jolt of foot hitting floor made Harry wince, as he knew it must be hurting his ill son but he kept moving, running, until he saw a Healer heading for him.

"Mr. Potter?" the Healer, a woman, asked. There was concern on her face as it switched from looking at Harry to the little pyjama clad boy in his arms.

"It's James," Harry panted, a little out of breath after running from the Apparition point to the emergency ward. "I don't know what's wrong with him. He's extremely feverish, has a horrible cough, runny nose and watery eyes."

James whimpered, again. "Hurts, daddy."

"It's ok, James," Harry said, in the most soothing voice he could muster, full of worry for his son's health. "The Healer will fix you up soon, alright?"

James didn't answer, didn't open his eyes, but turned his head to bury further into Harry's chest.

"Come through, Harry," the Healer urged, turning immediately and leading the way through to the large emergency room.

It was only now that he recognised the Healer as one he'd seen before. As he set James down on a bed, attempting to soothe him, he remembered that this Healer, Jocelyn Smythe, had been the one to take care of them four years ago when James had been born. She had been the one to tell him that Ginny hadn't made it through the childbirth after complications set in. They'd done everything they could, of course, but there were some things even magic couldn't fix.

Sitting by the bed holding James' hand while Jocelyn worked casting diagnostic spells to determine what was wrong, Harry couldn't help but feel the knot of anxiety if not ease, then at least not grow. He gave her a grateful smile. Jocelyn was a competent Healer and he had no choice but to trust that she would do her best.

But the knot of worry didn't disappear. He couldn't lose James, the very thought of losing his precious son made the chasm of losing Ginny break open and he found himself experiencing the pain of grief all over again. He must have made a desperate noise because Jocelyn paused and looked at him.

"Don't worry, Harry, childhood illnesses always hit hard, but they're rarely fatal," she reassured him. Harry merely nodded and kept his eyes on his son, reaching out to brush a damp lock of hair from his pale sweaty face.

When Jocelyn opened James' mouth and peered inside, she frowned. "Ah, we've been warned about this."

Harry looked up at her. "Been warned about what?"

"Measles," she answered. "It's a Muggle childhood disease. The Muggles immunise their children against it as it can be extremely dangerous to a small percentage of people and is incredibly contagious. I'm sure you had your shots when you were a child," she continued.

Harry nodded. He knew he'd had those shots not through any kindness on the Dursley's part towards him, rather so they wouldn't have to care for him if he fell ill. But he was glad for it now as he knew how contagious Measles was.

"The Muggles warned you about Measles?" Harry asked.

Jocelyn nodded. "Yes, they've had an outbreak. It happens sometimes as people get relaxed about immunisation. We've tried to get a program running but the Ministry is still stalling us on it." She turned to the trolley of equipment beside the bed and took out a couple of face masks, placing one on her own face to cover her nose and mouth and handing the other one to Harry. "Here, you'd better wear this for now just to be safe until we get him to an isolation ward. We'll keep him in the hospital until we're sure he's not infectious anymore."

"How long will that be?" Harry asked, the fear of losing James receding slightly, but the worry about his son ever present.

"Well, it depends on how long ago he was infected and how his magic is affected by the disease. And now that we have one patient, I'm sure over the next few days we're going to see a lot more, so we'll be trying to contain the outbreak as best we can. It might be two weeks before we'll let him leave."

_Two weeks! _Harry thought, making a mental note to reorganise his life around it when James was settled and comfortable. As comfortable as he could be, anyway.

James began to cough, and Harry moved to sit on the bed and take his small son into his arms, rocking him through the spasm.

"I can stay with him, I assume," Harry said in a tone that dared her to contradict him.

"Yes, of course." She smiled and nodded before leaving to organise moving James to an isolation ward.

Less than twenty minutes later, James was tucked up in bed sipping a cool drink and feeling much better after having been given a potion for the fever. Harry felt the cool wash of relief calm the twisting of his stomach. He noticed that all the staff were now wearing protective masks and that the room they were in must be a private room in the large isolation ward, which was made up of about thirty beds. For once he was glad of his name; he wouldn't like James to go through an illness in such a public space as that ward. Their room even had a bed for him so that he could stay with James all the time.

He spent the time before James dropped off into a deep sleep, telling him his favourite story. Then, giving a silent prayer of thanks, he curled up in his own bed and watched his son until he, too, slept.

By the next morning, the isolation ward was a different place. As Harry sat up and stretched, he saw through the windows that every bed was in use. There were witches and wizards everywhere, Healers and nurses were checking patients and everyone but the occupants of the beds were wearing face masks. The noise was strangely muted for such a large crowd of people and Harry wondered if their room had been sound proofed too. He was honestly grateful for the special treatment he'd obviously received and had no guilt in accepting it for his son. He'd do anything to ensure that James received the very best of treatment and facilities available. As would any parent.

James woke then, making a grizzly sound that came from a hoarse throat. Harry jumped up and took him a glass of water.

"Morning, James. Would you like a drink?" he asked his son, who looked all puffy from his deep sleep. The eyes he opened were still red and looked sore and there was a crust of dried gunk from his nose across his cheek. Harry felt his heart break for his little boy.

"'lo daddy," James said, barely above a whisper. When he sat up he coughed again, and Harry sat down and rubbed his free arm up and down James' back, letting the boy lean into him while he coughed.

"Here, mate, have a drink. It will cool your throat."

James nodded and drank, the fluid helping to soothe his cough.

"How come there's so many people out there daddy?" James asked.

"I think they're sick, just like you," Harry answered as a masked nurse entered the room.

"Yes, they are, young man," the nurse said. "Good to see you're awake. How about a nice wash? It will make you feel better."

Harry grinned. James hated bath time like a typical boy so he expected a battle to get James to take a bath. Sure enough, James looked at Harry wide eyed.

"Da-ad, I'm _sick_! I shouldn't have to wash when I'm sick!" James whined.

"Oh yes you will. The nurses are here to make you better but you have to help them. A nice wash will cool you down and make you all clean," Harry admonished.

"I don't want to!" James frowned and crossed his arms in that stubborn way Harry knew so well.

"I know. But if you don't then the germs that are making you sick will hang around and they might make other people sick," the nurse said, cheerfully.

James looked at them both doubtfully as if gauging whether or not he could get away with saying "I don't care!" Eventually he huffed, evidently seeing that he wasn't going to escape the washing. "Fine."

"Good boy," Harry smiled and kissed the top of James' head.

In a forgotten corner of the large isolation ward, Draco sat on a chair holding Leonora. She was feverish and lethargic, staring around the room with dull eyes. Draco hated that they'd been relegated to a hard wooden chair; cursed that no matter how hard he argued he was met with implacable disdain and told in not so many words that there were no beds for the likes of his daughter. That more _deserving _ people were utilising all the beds in the ward and at some point _when they could be bothered_ someone would come and ensure that Leonora was taken care of. But she would have to wait until they were good and ready to waste their time on scum like Malfoy.

In actual fact, Draco knew that they were all run off their feet and that they said no such thing. However, the tone of the voices confirmed they were reluctant at best to offer any assistance, and that it was only because Leonora was a child that they were putting aside their dislike and being professional about the care they showed her. Still, to be shunted away in a corner and for his beautiful Leonora to not have the comfort of a bed hurt him and made him rage at the unjustness of it all. Surely they could get another bed from somewhere?

He kissed the top of Leonora's blonde head, feeling the heat through his lips, his brow creasing in concern. Her little hand reached for his and held on as she leant back against his chest.

"Father, am I going to get a bed soon? I would like to sleep now," she said, dully.

"Soon," he responded reassuringly, looking around the room again. If only he could use magic in this ward, he'd transfigure this damned chair into a bed for her.

He saw the familiar figure of Potter through a window and unconsciously his arms tightened around his daughter protectively. For a panic filled moment he wanted to flee the ward, leave the hospital and take Leonora somewhere else – anywhere else - and nowhere near Harry Potter. Then logic set in and he relaxed. Potter didn't know about Leonora, therefore Potter was not here to take her away from him. He'd die before he let that happen, anyway. Leonora was all he had in the world and he hadn't suffered the bloody humiliation of looking like a beached whale the whole time he was carrying her for her to be taken away now.

Calmer, yet more on guard and still suspicious, he watched the man that had unknowingly given him his daughter. Unfortunately, he had to admit Potter still looked bloody fit, the extra years adding a masculine hardness to him that was only a promise the last time Draco had seen him.

He wished that he didn't still dream of that night constantly; wished that he didn't still feel Potter's hands on him when he woke from those dreams. He wished desperately that he'd meant more to Potter than a celebratory fuck. Even more, he wished that Leonora didn't have Potter's incredible green eyes to remind him of the man every time he looked into his beloved daughter's face.

Leonora coughed suddenly, like it caught her by surprise and she had no breath to expel. Draco held her as she coughed, feeling completely useless, only able to wipe her nose for her with a handkerchief when she was done. He glared at the nurses who ignored them and wondered bitterly what would happen if they knew she was Potter's child, too. Would a bed be found then? But no, that was not something he planned on doing; not unless things became desperate. They'd told him Measles was not generally fatal or dangerous for most children so, as long as she was going to be all right, he would keep his secret.

As his attention turned back to Potter, he felt Leonora snuggle up into his chest and heard the gentle rhythmic intake of breath that signaled she had fallen asleep. He rocked in the chair slowly as if to help soothe her sleep, knowing that for now it was all he could do. He saw Potter exit the room and speak to one of the nurses; saw them both look over to him and unconsciously he sunk back into the chair. He knew it was useless but it was an instinctive reaction. He really didn't want Potter's attention. Not now.

Draco held his breath as Potter made his way over to stand in front of him, looking at Leonora asleep on Draco's lap. When Potter looked up and into Draco's eyes, Draco inhaled sharply. There was concern there where he had expected there to be indifference.

"Draco?" Potter said.

"Potter," Draco replied. It was all he could say. His face flushed in shame at being found here, stuck in a chair with his sick daughter – their sick daughter – on his lap, being deemed unworthy of a bed. From the look on Potter's face, he didn't I seem /I to be gloating. Still, it was terribly embarrassing to be in this position.

"This is your daughter?" Potter asked.

Draco nodded. "This is Leonora," he said quietly. "And she's finally asleep, so kindly keep your voice down if you don't mind."

Potter nodded, looking down at Leonora, his face softening perceptibly.

"I have a spare bed in James' room, if you want it," Potter said, and Draco's mouth dropped open in surprise.

His initial reaction was to refuse. There was no conceivable way he could be that close to Potter for the time it would take Leonora to recover. Potter would find out somehow that she was his daughter and Draco just knew he would try and take her away from him. He knew it. And he would win. What court in the land would refuse the Chosen One if he wanted to try and get custody of their child?

"I don't want anything from you," Draco hissed, and felt a moment's victory when Potter looked shocked.

"I'm not doing it for you," he said. "I'm doing it for your daughter. She needs a bed and I have one. Is it too much to ask that you put her needs above your own selfish hatred of me?"

That shocked Draco. Potter thought Draco hated him still? Admittedly they'd been terribly drunk the night they'd spent together having very sloppy, though enthusiastic and quite utterly _amazing _sex, but he thought he'd done a great job of letting Potter know what he felt was anything but hatred. It was Potter who had treated it as no more than sex, after all, disappearing without a word the next morning.

"I-," Draco started, intending to tell Potter that he didn't hate him at all but realised it would just lead to speaking about _that_ night and the topic was just too close to Potter finding out about Leonora for his liking. She did need a bed though, he told himself, and as long as he didn't give in and tell Potter about her then he'd never know. Rationalising it that way, he nodded. "Fine," he said, reluctantly adding "Thank you."

Both children slept for most of the day, leaving Harry and Draco sitting in chairs at opposite ends of the room with nothing but each other to distract themselves. Harry sighed, feeling uncomfortable with Draco again after all this time. He wondered who Leonora's mother was - and where she was - but didn't feel he had the right to ask.

He wished he had the courage to just talk to Draco. Surely after all this time, they could talk about that night? Seeing Draco again had made Harry conscious of the fact that there were things he wanted to tell him. Things he should have said before. Like the fact that he hadn't been drunk at all. Like the fact that he only left without a word the next morning because he felt so guilty for taking advantage of a very drunk Draco just to satisfy the burning need which coursed through him every time he'd seen him. Like the fact that even though he'd married Ginny and loved her dearly, he'd never quite forgotten how insatiable his desire had been for Draco. And how, even now, he'd like to lose himself in those devastating grey eyes.

Instead, they sat there in silence apart from the regular visits from the nurses to check on the children and the occasional wakeful periods James and Leonora had. It drove Harry to distraction and made him irritable. He requested, and received, two much more comfortable chairs for he and Draco to spend the night on and, as he closed his eyes for what he knew would be a restless sleep, a large part of him wanted to go to Draco and kiss his forehead goodnight, in a way letting him know that everything would be all right, that he and Leonora would be safe. It was an odd feeling but not a new one. In some ways he felt like he'd been protecting Draco since sixth year at Hogwarts.

After the war – after _that_I night - Harry had anonymously made sure that the Malfoy estate was kept intact for Draco, even though his father had been sent to Azkaban and had died there a year later. Guilt. He knew it was but he liked to think some part of him did it just because Draco deserved to keep his family home. He'd saved Harry's life during the war, as had Narcissa.

Harry eventually fell into an uncomfortable sleep, filled with visions of pale skin under his fingertips, skin that responded to his touch and a body that arched beneath him wildly. And his dreams were suffused with an aching _want_.

If Draco didn't know James Potter was Potter's son, then he'd barely be able to tell. When he looked closely at James the next morning, he could see that there were similarities but nothing he could put a finger on. There was too much Weasley in the boy to automatically be labelled as a Potter. Not like Leonora, he thought with a start. Anyone seeing Leonora and Harry together couldn't help but be struck by how identical their eyes were. Both were an indefinable green that made you feel like you were swimming in a bright whirlpool of bubbling emotion which left you quite breathless.

The children had discovered each other this morning and it made Draco proud that his daughter got along with James – her half brother. He shivered a little when he acknowledged the relationship between them in his head. Delighted laughter, only slightly diminished by their illness, rang out around the room and Draco smiled involuntarily at them both. He risked a glance at Potter and found him not looking at the children but at himself, so he returned his attention to the children, aware of the light blush that tinted his cheeks.

"Do you think we could put aside any animosity for the time being?" Potter asked. When Draco turned to look at him, he found Potter seemingly surprised that he'd actually asked the question out loud. "For the kids, I mean," he added, inclining his head towards them both.

"Of course, Potter," Draco responded before he had the chance to think about what that might mean. "You're assuming I still carry animosity towards you, I see."

"Well, I've never seen anything to the contrary," Potter shot back.

"No, of course not. You tend to disappear before-" Draco broke off, horrified he'd made reference to that night when he had firmly told himself _not_ to bring it up. To cover his embarrassment, he stood and straightened Leonora's bedcovers before resting his hand on her heated forehead, noting that it was decidedly cooler than the night before.

"Father, James says he has a rabbit, a real one," Leonora said, looking up at him eagerly. "Can I get one when we get home? He says it's really fluffy and soft and pretty."

"We'll see, Leo," he replied, smiling fondly at her and pushing her blonde hair back from her face.

He'd chosen the name Leonora because it meant 'lioness'. When it was shortened to 'Leo' it was lion. His daughter was named after the bravest lion he knew. It was an infinitesimal link between her and Potter. A link that made him proud, no matter the circumstances of her birth. That still didn't mean he wanted Potter anywhere near knowing Leonora was his.

As Leonora settled and turned back to speak excitedly to James, he heard Potter's soft voice from beside him and jumped slightly.

"She's beautiful, Draco. So self-possessed for a little girl of, what…six?"

Draco was alarmed. He couldn't tell Potter that Leonora was six; it would be too close, too easy to do the sums and work out she was his. "No," he said in a soft voice, hoping he wasn't overheard. "She's not six yet. But thank you, yes she is beautiful and extremely well mannered. I am capable of teaching her good manners, you know." His voice had taken on a sharp, defensive edge and he knew Potter heard it.

"I didn't say you weren't," Potter sighed and when Draco looked at him, he was tiredly running a hand through his still messy hair. Draco had the urge to do it for him, but he wouldn't, though his eyes followed the tracks that Potter's hands made.

Potter spoke again and pulled his attention back. "Where is her mother, if you don't mind me asking?"

Draco took a deep breath before he answered, wanting to proudly admit he was the one to give birth to this beauty. He dragged Potter aside, away from the little ears of his daughter. "I do mind you asking, actually. That's not something that is any of your business," he said bluntly.

Potter's shoulders dropped and Draco allowed himself a moment of victory. A smirk formed on his lips before he had a chance to stop it. "Nothing about us is any of your business. Don't think because we've called a truce for the sake of the children you have any right to ask me personal questions."

Draco saw the flash of familiar anger in Potter's eyes. Just like back in school. God, how he loved those eyes when they were full of passion. They were so alive, they set his senses on fire and he could quite easily stand there and just stare into them forever. But Potter sighed, nodded curtly and turned away, leaving Draco feeling both a mixture of triumph and sadness.

"Fine, Malfoy," Potter ground out. "If that's the way it is, then I beg your pardon for trying to be civil."

"It's a bit too late for that don't you think?" Draco responded.

"What do you mean?" Potter's head shot up, eyes firing bewildered daggers at him. Draco pursed his lips and shook his head.

"Nothing," he said, mentally kicking himself for not being able to refrain from keeping Potter in a conversation, even if it wasn't a friendly one.

He looked up and saw both of the children were watching them, frowns on their faces. He smiled at Leonora and moved back to her side. "Is there anything you want, Leo?" he asked, in an attempt to distract her. "Sweets? A drink?"

Harry watched Draco over the next couple of days, quite impressed with how good a father he was. He was incredibly attentive to his daughter and it was clear to see they had a very close bond. He noticed how tender he was with her when the rash appeared over the children's bodies; how he cooled her forehead when her temperature made her fractious and how he held her when she needed a cuddle. In a way he was very envious of Leonora; she had Draco to hold her, she had all Draco's attention, but she was such a sweet natured child Harry's envy didn't last long. He thought Leonora's mother must have been a saint for her to have ended up with such a lovely nature when her father was such a… such an arse.

And Harry had James to love and spoil and care for. His son was the most important thing in his life and he was inordinately proud of him. Especially the way he handled himself with the older Leonora, not making a pest of himself but using his humour to make her laugh delightedly. He found he was not as tactile with James as Draco was with Leonora and he wondered if that was because James was a boy or it was because Harry himself always had trouble with people touching him. It wasn't as if he didn't love hugging and cuddling his son, he did…Maybe it was just a boy thing, he told himself, leaning in to ruffle the boy's hair, which earned him a fond grimace.

He and Draco didn't speak to each other unless the children included them in their conversations and then, by silent agreement, they smiled and laughed at each other, Harry acutely aware that he would love the smile Draco turned on him in those moments to be meant for him and for him alone.

They were so isolated here in this room that at times Harry felt like they were the only four people on the planet. If not for the regular visits from the nurses to check temperatures and to administer potions for the fever, Harry would think no one else outside this room even existed.

As the days passed, he felt a bond develop between the four of them. One that he was sure Draco didn't feel, but in his mind, Harry liked to pretend all the false smiles, given for the sake of the children, were real ones. He knew his were. He'd give anything to rip down this wall that was between them. But he knew he'd done the wrong thing taking advantage of Draco when he was drunk and so, he knew it was Draco's call. And Draco didn't want anything to do with him.

James tugged on his sleeve. "Dad, when we get outta here can we have Leo over to play?" he asked.

"If Draco says it's alright, of course we can," Harry replied, looking at Draco and Leonora in turn.

"Leo?" Draco asked.

Leonora smiled and nodded. "Can I father? I'd really like to see Boxy the rabbit. And did you know he has a parrot, too? And it sits on his shoulder, like a real pirate's parrot?"

Harry had to laugh, as Lenora had only asked Draco that same question about ten times over the past few days.

"We'd be delighted then, Potter," Draco replied gracefully, and Harry was about to smile when James piped up, crossly.

"His name is _Harry_. Why don't you call him Harry?"

"James, that's not very nice. Draco has always called me Potter, it's not important," Harry said. "Apologise to Draco, please."

James looked at him, still frowning. Harry could see the stubborn set of his chin and he hoped that James wouldn't make a scene here. Harry kept the stern look on his face and James backed down, reluctantly.

"Sorry," he said, grudgingly. "Don't you like my dad or something?" James looked at Draco almost challenging him, and Harry blushed. Damn kids; they always managed to put you on the spot right when you least expected it. He didn't risk a look at Draco, for Draco might see the forlorn hope in his eyes if he did.

"James," Harry protested softly. "That's hardly a thing to ask someone."

"No, it's fine," Draco interrupted, and Harry looked up, surprised, seeing a faint blush on Draco's cheeks. "I like your dad fine, James," Draco smiled at James, then turned his attention to Harry. "And I can call him _Harry_ if you like."

The way his name sounded on Draco's lips sent a shiver up the length of his spine and tossed him back to the night they'd spent together, his name rolling off Draco's lips in a litany of desire. How was he going to manage now he'd have Draco saying his name like a soft caress all the time?

If Draco were honest with himself, he'd have to admit he liked calling Harry by his given name. James' bluntness had thrown him for a moment but, during the time they'd been cooped up in this room, he'd relaxed around Harry a lot more. Harry was very solicitous of Leonora, for which Draco was extremely grateful, but it made him more determined than ever not to tell Harry that she was his daughter. He did feel regretful that Leo was missing out on having Harry as another father but he would not take the risk of losing her and, from what he'd seen of how protective Harry was of James, he still had no doubt that he would try and take over were he to know the truth.

In his mind, he fantasised about all four of them living in a large house together as a family. He watched Harry surreptitiously when he could; saw the lovely clean lines of his face and body, itched to feel that strength around him and inside him once more. Sometimes, he caught Harry looking at him, too, and when he did, his heart did this little flip flop of a dance, fluttering in hopeless wishing. He wondered what Harry thought of that night, now so many years ago; wondered if he'd forgotten it as just another indiscriminate, meaningless fuck.

Despite this, he still felt a yearning need to touch Harry again. The front they put on for the children started as an uncomfortable situation, where he was very careful of what he said or did, but it was rapidly becoming an important part of his day. A time when he could really smile at Harry, joke and relax with him and have him think it was all for the sake of the children. But it was very real to Draco and he knew he would miss it when they left.

At the moment they were playing a Muggle card game. Exploding Snap was out of the question with the children's coughing so Harry arranged to have some picture cards delivered to help keep the children occupied. They'd set up a table between the beds and with Harry sitting on the end of James' bed and himself on the end of Leonora's bed, they played picture snap.

Despite a thumping headache, Draco wanted to play with the children; he loved the joyful squealing each time they raced for the deck when a similar picture appeared. Both of them looked so much better now; the rash was starting to fade slowly, the coughing had stopped and their runny noses had cleared up.

Both Harry and Draco made a big deal of pretending to snap for the cards whenever there was a pair but they always waited for the children to beat them, laughing at themselves because they were too slow. God, Draco loved the casual easy feeling when the four of them interacted this way and, not for the first time, he dreamed of it being like this all the time.

A snake appeared at the top of the deck and when he turned up his next card it was another snake. Suddenly, both he and Harry reached for the pile of cards at the same time and Harry's hand landed on top of Draco's. He stilled in shock, the warmth shooting directly up his arm and sending heated tendrils of desire through his bloodstream. Biting back a soft noise, he didn't move, expecting Harry to remove his hand and he was even more shocked when Harry's fingers curled around his.

Not only was his head thumping but now his heart was pounding and he felt his face burning up as he looked into Harry's eyes. There was fear there, Draco saw, and hope. His first instinct was to raise their hands to his lips but a squeal from Leonora broke the connection and he returned to the card game, laughing at winning the pile of cards but unable to cool the heat in his face and thrumming through his body.

That's it, Harry decided. Tonight, when the children were asleep, he would talk to Draco. For days, the strain had been building in him. On one hand, logic told him that the friendliness was all for show but his heart was trying to tell him something different. When he saw Draco blush as their hands connected, his heart jumped and took over, making up his mind for him.

Moments later, his head told him that he needed to be prepared for another rejection, but he couldn't shake the need to explain to Draco why he left so suddenly after that night. Perhaps Draco might forgive him? Right…and hell might freeze over. Still, he knew the right thing to do was to explain the truth. And let Draco hate him for something real. He wondered why he never had this much tension and anxiety with Ginny. He barely remembered a time when they argued at all. No, life had been fairly easy with Ginny. And he had loved her so much and he missed her even now. But he'd been alone too long and always in the back of his mind was the faint regret for the selfish way he'd treated Draco.

When the children were asleep and the lights dimmed, Harry quietly moved his chair near Draco's. It was a peaceful time; all the patients in the ward outside were asleep and they'd been able to pull the curtains across the windows for privacy, so it felt quite cosy and - dare he even think it? - romantic.

Draco barely seemed surprised that Harry moved his chair close but he was looking at him in quiet expectation, a faint frown on his face. Harry curled up in his chair, ran a tense hand through his hair in agitation and sighed.

"What do you want to say, Harry?" Draco asked, and Harry was immediately buoyed by the fact that Draco was calling him "Harry" all the time now.

"I- I have a confession to make," he started, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "That night…do you remember…?"

"Yes, I remember. What about it?" Draco's voice was tight, but Harry couldn't hear any anger in it, though Draco was giving him a hard look.

"I took advantage of you. I wanted to say I was sorry."

"Oh, come off it. We were both drunk. We had some meaningless sex on a night of celebrations, right? Don't even think about it."

"Well, that's just it. I wasn't drunk. I knew exactly what I was doing. I took advantage of your state for my own benefit." Harry was being brutally honest and he watched as Draco's face changed, showing a range of conflicting emotions, not all of which Harry understood.

But then Draco's voice made it perfectly clear how angry he was. "You deliberately led me to believe you were as drunk as I was just so you could fuck me?"

Harry hung his head and nodded.

"You fucking _coward_," Draco hissed and Harry took it, knowing he deserved it.

"You'd never have looked at me otherwise," Harry said, looking up into Draco's angry face.

"How would you know?" he spat, leaning forward. "And keep your voice down. The last thing we want is for the children to wake and hear us arguing over what a callous, manipulative creep their-you are!"

"How would I know?" Harry whispered back. "Because you hated me. When you were drunk you didn't hate me anymore."

"Oh, give me a break, Potter. All you were after that night was an easy, meaningless fuck. And there I was, drunk and horny and all over you because I'd wanted…fuck!" Draco snarled and flung himself back in his chair.

"It was anything but meaningless, Draco," Harry whispered. "I've never been able to forget it."

Harry wondered if he would hear the noise a pin made if it dropped to the floor right now. He doubted it; the silence was so thick with tension.

"Why did you leave without saying anything if it meant so much to you?" Draco spoke carefully, and Harry could sense how tightly he'd controlled himself.

"Guilt," Harry admitted. "I couldn't face you hating me again when you realised what I'd done."

Draco's hand came up and covered his eyes, tiredly. "Well, now I know, so kindly piss off and leave me alone. I-I don't hate you…but you used me and why you've decide to tell me all this now is beyond my comprehension."

"I suppose I just felt we'd come a long way the past week. I felt I had to be honest with you. I'm sorry for what I did, I never meant to hurt you." Harry said, and was surprised when Draco laughed.

"Oh, you have no idea what that night did to me."

"Tell me," Harry said, quietly.

Draco shook his head and Harry thought he wasn't going to answer, but Draco eventually replied in a very soft voice.

"I'd never felt so loved and cherished as you made me feel that night. Drunk as I was, I still felt so amazing. I'd wanted you for a long time and then to wake the next morning and find you gone with no word…and to realise that it was just some random sex for you was…devastating."

Harry swallowed, unaccustomed to this blunt honesty from Draco; this raw, naked emotion. "I'm so sorry, Draco. If I'd known, I never would have left you."

He half expected Draco to sneer at him and tell him he'd been lying and as if sex with Harry bloody Potter could ever actually _mean_ anything. But, he didn't.

"Well, it's all water under the bridge now, isn't it? We moved on. You have James and I have Leo and we're adults and…we can…just… forget it ever happened. Right?"

"You- you don't think we could start over? Try again?" Harry was sure his voice cracked but he was past caring about how he sounded. He was too crushed to realise that he could have had this all along. But then, he reminded himself, he wouldn't have James and, no, he didn't regret a minute of his time with Ginny, but…he hoped that somehow he could fix this; that there could be some sort of future. If Draco could forgive him.

Draco stood and walked to the other end of the room as far from Harry as he could. Harry sighed brokenly and let him go. Draco's silence was his answer.

Trying to think past the pounding in his head, Draco's mind waged a roaring battle. He couldn't quite get his thoughts around being used like that by Harry because if he thought about it in a different way, he wasn't really being used. He'd wanted Harry and Harry had wanted him and the fact that Harry had pretended to be drunk _did_ make the prat a coward, but it also made him adorably human. Besides, he'd had to get drunk to even approach Harry, so he was just as big a coward. Draco pulled aside the curtain and rested his forehead on the cool glass. God, Harry had _wanted him_. It was like a repetitive echo in his head fuzzing up his thought processes and leaving him barely able to appreciate that the man he'd wanted, thought about, dreamed of and fantasised over had actually wanted him… _still_ wanted him.

He was so tired; his head was aching and he just wanted to run far away from the cloistering atmosphere of this room. It'd been so long since he'd allowed anyone to touch him and he desperately wanted to fall back into Harry's arms and let him just take care of him…but what about Leonora? How could he even attempt any sort of relationship with Harry without telling him about Leonora?

A defeated sob escaped before he could stop it. To have the man he wanted back in his arms, back in his bed, he had to tell Harry about Leonora and risk _everything_. To tell Harry now…Harry would be so angry, he'd _never_ forgive him.

Angry with himself, he refused to let the single sob turn into a melodramatic scene; he wouldn't let Harry see him in such a state. He had reserves of strength he'd never even known about until he'd given birth to Leonora; he would use those now and not say anything. Leave everything unsaid and give himself time to think. Maybe tomorrow after he'd slept and wasn't so tired and –

Draco felt Harry's hand on his shoulder and all his resolve and walls came crumbling down. He turned and buried his head against Harry's chest, feeling nothing but a great sense of relief when Harry's arms came around him and held him steady. The tears were pricking his eyes and he just wanted to _let go_.

"Draco?" Harry whispered. Draco felt the soothing pressure of Harry's hands rubbing his back and, God help him, he could purr from the sheer pleasure just that touch gave him. He knew he was trembling, shaking, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Draco, are you all right?" Harry asked again, and Draco heard the puzzlement in his voice. He shook his head, blinking back the tears and looked up into Harry's face. He told himself that this was a mistake; that he'd regret it later when he could think straight but right at this moment the only things he saw were Harry's beautiful green eyes looking at him in concern.

"Harry," he sighed and leant in, pressing his lips to Harry's, feeling the purest sense of completeness he had ever felt. He almost sobbed again when he felt Harry kissing him back. Those strong arms surrounded him and made him believe that everything would be okay. The sweet, determined way that Harry took over the kiss pressed home to Draco that he could just surrender himself to those possessive lips and never have to worry about anything ever again. His arms came up to slide around Harry's shoulders and neck; hands delved into his hair and Draco groaned because the way their bodies met was everything he remembered and more.

Harry's lips felt cool against this heated mouth, the confident tongue that swooped inside and explored his made him shiver and melt all at the same time. As Harry pulled him closer, it was all he could do to keep his feet; he felt as weak as a kitten. This week had been one huge emotional strain on him and letting it out this way felt so incredible and so perfectly safe, his arms clutched at Harry desperately in an attempt to keep it that way and never let go.

Then, without him realising it, he was releasing tiny whimpers of distress, of need, and as Harry held him up his eyes fluttered closed and he sank into blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

A/N: I really hope you enjoy this offering. This story is partially DH compliant in that it is not Epilogue compliant (mostly).

jamie

xxx

* * *

Part 2.

"Thank you," Harry said to the Healer as she left. He shut the door behind her and returned to the chair he'd moved alongside Draco's bed. A bed that the nurses only grudgingly found and moved into the room after Harry had insisted. He didn't care how reluctant they were to find a bed - only that they had - and now Draco was resting comfortably, asleep.

Sitting by Draco's bed, he watched him with fond exasperation. Of course, they should have expected Draco to contract measles too. Being in such close contact with his daughter and having no immunity to the disease, of course he was susceptible. The Healer had told him that Draco's temperature was very high and that, coupled with his heightened emotional state, was too much and he fainted. Not that Draco would call it fainting. Harry smiled to himself because he could virtually hear Draco insisting that _Malfoys don't faint_, in that annoyingly superior way of his. At least he'd be able to tease Draco in the future about swooning over a kiss from Harry Potter.

Harry had no idea how long he sat there watching Draco and thinking about the future - if they even had a future together - and how they might make it work. Their children got along; Harry adored Leonora and he could see the fondness for James in Draco's eyes, so maybe a blended family had a chance of success. Eventually. He was probably being optimistic – one kiss didn't mean all that stood between them was automatically solved. Draco could still claim he wasn't in his right mind when he kissed Harry and refuse to take the chance on a relationship. Still, he could hope. And he would hope because Draco _had_ kissed him, nothing could change that and Harry wasn't prepared to give up without a fight now. Not again. An honest fight, this time. No secret wanting, no manipulative planning to get what he wanted, just a straightforward, determined chase.

"Harry, what's wrong with my father?" Leonora's voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned and saw that she was sitting up looking scared, her bottom lip trembling.

He moved to sit by her on the bed, slipping his arm around her. "He's fine, love. Guess what? He has the Measles, just like you and James."

"He has?" she asked, eyes wide. "Poor father. He doesn't like being sick." She gave Draco a loving look, though she was frowning as she looked back up at Harry. "He's very grumpy when he's sick."

"We'll have to take good care of him, then, won't we?" Harry replied, not at all surprised that Draco was a difficult patient.

Leonora nodded at Harry, a smile breaking her face. "Father says I take good care of him."

"I'm sure you do. I'm sure you both look after each other really well," Harry said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

She yawned as she nodded in agreement. "I love him very much," she said, tiredly.

"I know," Harry responded. "Come on, lie back down and sleep, love, and you can see him in the morning."

"You'll stay here and help me take care of him?" she asked.

"Of course I will."

"Good. You make him smile. I like it when he smiles."

He tucked the covers back around her when she lay down and before he knew it, she had fallen asleep again, leaving him to marvel at how easily children adapted when they felt secure and safe.

* * *

Of all the bloody people to swoon like a damned girl in front of it had to be Potter, Draco remonstrated with himself. Potter! Harry must think him a complete and utter fool. Draco lay in bed pretending to be asleep, and he could hear the chatter of the children as they happily ate their breakfast. He assumed it was breakfast, anyway. He didn't want to let them know he was awake yet; he needed time to process what had happened last night before he knew how to act when he saw Harry again. How could he face him after the way he behaved last night? It must have been the illness, the rise in his temperature confusing his judgement somehow. It must have been, because every logical thought in his head had concluded there was no way he could have a relationship with Harry.

Still, that kiss…it had made him feel like he was always going to be desired. Harry had worshipped his mouth and it brought back wonderful memories and for a few brief glorious moments, he allowed himself to dream of what could be.

What could have been.

Deep inside, he knew the level of betrayal Harry would feel at not being told about Leonora would be the death of any relationship they might have. If only he'd known back then that their night together had meant something to Harry, too; he would have told him. Hoped that it had meant enough to…

Conscience moved inside Draco then like a sharp knife twisting something vital and he had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. To wish something like that would be to wish Harry had not married the Weaslette and had James. Not even someone as selfish as himself would wish that on someone like Harry. He'd experienced how much Harry loved James; saw it in every look and gesture between them. He could never deny Harry that.

But…to have a relationship with Harry now and _not_ tell him about Leonora was too dangerous. It would only take a few people telling Harry that Leonora had his eyes for him to become suspicious. While Draco might spend his time yearning for something he could never have now, it was better than falling deeply in love with Harry, which he knew would be extremely easy to do, and then having it all ripped away in the devastation of the revelation. He'd not cope with that well, and it would hurt Leonora, too.

And if that happened, Harry would take her away from him. He knew it.

It all came back to keeping Leonora. Regardless of anything else, if Harry found out about her, he would try and take her away from him. All the enmity that Harry had had for him back in school would resurface and he'd be sure to decide that he was not a good parent, but an evil, manipulative sod who didn't deserve to have a child, let alone have shared custody of one of his.

No, everyone was better off if things stayed as they were. Leo knew Harry and liked him but she didn't _love_ him. She didn't, couldn't share the same bond with Harry that he and Leonora shared. She would be scared and lonely and she would miss him. There was no way in hell that he was going to risk hurting her like that.

All he had to do was deny that he had any feelings for Harry and refuse any and all attempts from Ha-Potter to change things.

Behind his closed eyelids, he felt the hot sting of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and swallowed his sadness as best he could before rolling over to face the wall, determined that he gather himself before he let anyone know he was awake. Why was he crying so much lately? He felt like a girl when he did that.

He sensed rather than heard Harry move to the side of his bed and then rest a hand on his shoulder. "Draco?"

"Piss off, Potter," Draco rasped back, aiming to push Harry away as soon as possible. He shook his shoulder in an attempt to remove Harry's hand. It worked, though Draco ached for the loss of contact.

"I told you he gets grumpy when he's sick," Leonora whispered in the background, and Draco felt ashamed of himself.

"It's alright, love, I understand," Harry replied in a resigned voice, which Draco took to mean that Harry understood the _real_ reason he'd been pushed away. Good. The sooner Harry left him alone, the better off he'd be. A quick, sharp wrench was better than a long drawn out ache, anyway.

James called Harry over for something and left Draco alone with his broken dreams and unattainable wishes. As he lay there breathing deeply to try and relax, he felt movement on the bed. When he opened his eyes, Leonora had slipped under the covers with him and was snuggled up against his chest.

"I'll take care of you, father," she said, patting his arm.

Draco looked at her and smiled as he wrapped his arm around her drawing her closer. This was what he needed to protect; this bond of love they shared between them. He kissed the tip of her nose; pushing away the pang of loss he felt when he looked into her eyes. "Thank you, Leo. I'm sure to get better really quickly with such a good little healer helping," he said.

She curled up against him. "And if Harry gets sick, I can look after him, too," she added.

"I'm sure you could," Draco replied. "But I think Harry had some special medicine when he was little, which means that he won't get sick."

"Oh," she said, sighing. "I can't wait until we can leave and go visit James and see all his animals."

"Hmm…" Draco replied noncommittally, and drifted off while his daughter, still snuggled up in his arms, prattled away about James and Harry.

* * *

"Mr. Potter - Harry," Jocelyn said, opening a folder on her desk. "I called you in here to let you know that we've been doing final testing on James and Leonora before sending them home."

Harry sat forward, smiling, hoping that he and James would soon be able to escape the rather pronounced _awkwardness_ that had arisen in their room since Draco had become ill three days ago. They'd returned to not speaking to each other and no amount of wheedling by James or Leonora had managed to thaw the icy chill that accompanied Draco's words whenever he was forced to speak to him.

It was all very pleasant on the surface; Draco didn't insult him nor was he rude, but there was no warmth in his words or in his eyes when he looked at Harry, and there were no smiles and laughter. Leonora told Harry that her father was always this grumpy when he was ill but Harry knew Draco regretted the kiss; put it down to being ill and not quite in his right mind at the time. And he wanted nothing to do with Harry, now.

"Is everything clear, then?" Harry asked.

"Certainly, Harry. We've done all the checks the Muggles insist upon and carried out extensive testing on their magical signatures to ensure no damage was done by the illness. Both the children are clear of any infection and neither child has any residual effects on their magic. You are free to take them home as soon as you like."

Harry stared at her. "Well, I'm not sure what Draco wants to do with Leonora. I'm sure he'll have some family member or friend to care for her while he's recovering, but that's great news about James," he grinned, not noticing the frown on her face.

"Harry, I'm not sure what custody arrangement you have with Mr. Malfoy for Leonora, but I'm sure in the circumstances he would prefer to have her with her father." Jocelyn said, confused.

Harry frowned. "Custody? I'm not her father."

"You didn't know?" she asked, shocked.

"Know what?" Harry replied, completely perplexed. There was no possible way that Lenora was his. She even _looked_ like Draco. It was obvious that Draco was her father.

Jocelyn stared hard at Harry for long seconds without speaking, seconds that ticked by very loudly in Harry's head. She couldn't possibly mean… "You mean…?"

"Leonora's magic has traces of both yours and Draco's magic combined to make her own unique signature. And magical signatures don't lie, Harry."

"But…that's impossible!" Harry spluttered. "Draco is a _man_! How…?" His mind was whirling and he felt like he'd been thrown off a cliff with nothing to hang on to. Men _don't_ carry children, they just _don't_! He looked at Jocelyn, mentally begging her to tell him she was joking or making a mistake, but the shock on the Healer's face mirrored his own.

"I'm sorry, Harry. We thought you knew and that was why you insisted she have the spare bed in James' room." she said, raising her hand to her mouth, sympathy and regret oozing from her eyes.

"I didn't know," he said absently, shaking his head, still too shocked to think.

He thought Jocelyn began to tell him just how it was possible for a man in the Wizarding world to carry a child, but Harry really didn't want to know. He was too stunned by the news that Leonora was his child, his _daughter_ …He and Draco had a daughter _together_! He couldn't process anything of what she was telling him. Nothing. It was as if he could not fixate on anything but his small daughter's face and…oh, her eyes. Why had he not seen that before? They were his mother's eyes - _his_ eyes!

Why had Draco not told him? When that question rose to the surface of his thoughts, Harry felt the anger building inside him. Draco had no right to withhold this from him. Granted, they had not seen each other since the night Leonora had been conceived… _oh, he had a daughter now_ … but in the last ten days or so there had been ample opportunity for Draco to tell him. Therefore, he had deliberately kept it from him. It made Harry's blood boil.

From a distance he heard Jocelyn's voice, bringing his attention back. "Harry, calm down, please. I can see this is a shock to you, but you need to calm down."

He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, forcing his anger down to where it simmered beneath the surface.

"Sorry," he said after a few moments. "It has been a shock. But I think I will take both of them home with me. It's appropriate we spend time together and I'm sure he won't mind that. Thank you for telling me, Jocelyn." Harry was oddly formal, rising and holding out his hand.

Jocelyn took it warily and they shook. "Will you be alright?"

"Yes," Harry said tightly. "I'll speak to Draco about all of this. Thanks for all your help."

"You're welcome, Harry, it's been a pleasure seeing you again."

"I'll just go and get the children ready," he nodded, before leaving the office, tightly wound and ready for a confrontation with Draco. More than ready. His fury at the man was a steady beat under his ribs.

When he entered the room and saw the children sitting side by side on James' bed poring over a book, he realised he couldn't have this confrontation with Draco in front of them because if Draco didn't tell him about Leonora then he certainly didn't tell her who her other parent was. He stood there watching his two children for a long moment, taking in everything about Leonora, her fine blond hair, just like her …dad's? He assumed Draco was also a father…or was he her mother? He shook his head in annoyance and continued cataloguing Leonora's face and mannerisms. Yes, she flicked her hair off her face just as Harry used to do and the way she laughed was just like James – but that could just be rubbing off due to their enforced cohabitation these past ten days.

Watching her took the edge off his rage and his face softened, noticeably touched when she looked up and held her hand out to him, smiling. "Come and read us a story, Harry," she said.

"Well, how would you two like to go home?" he said, wisely schooling his face to show excitement. James squealed predictably and leapt out of bed, throwing himself at Harry. Leonora smiled at him but then turned and looked at Draco who had woken and rolled over to watch them.

"I have to stay here and look after father," she said.

"Leo can come home with us, can't she dad?" James said, jumping around. "While Draco gets better she can come and…"

"No!" Draco's voice cut across James.

"It's fine with me," Harry said, careful to hide how he was really feeling because right now, he wanted to take Leonora far away from the man that had kept this secret and never let him have her back. It would serve him right.

Draco studied him for a time. "I don't want her to be any bother," he said, while James was standing there looking anxiously between the two of them. Harry was aware of the undercurrents of emotion flying around Draco. He knew he must be worried about Leonora coming home with him. Now he knew Draco's secret, he wondered why he hadn't noticed little clues before now. Of course, it had never entered his head that wizards could carry children.

"She won't be," Harry smiled. "She and James get along famously and it will only be for a week or so. And I will bring her in to see you every day."

"Please, oh please," James begged, jigging around on one foot then the other.

Leonora smiled sadly, Harry saw. She knew that she had promised to take care of her father but she was going to be denied an exciting holiday with her new friend.

"Honestly, Draco," Harry said. "She won't be a bother and who else do you have to care for her while you're in here?" Harry knew both of Draco's parents were incapable of taking care of her; Lucius was dead and Narcissa had moved to France soon after his death.

He watched as Draco's eyes turned to look at Leonora. There was fear in them, Harry could see that, and doubt too, but the beautiful grey eyes that Harry loved - once loved - closed in resignation. Harry turned and began to collect James' things, triumphant.

Draco rose and packed Leonora's belongings into a small satchel and she threw herself into his arms. "Are you sure, father? I can stay here and look after you if you need me to."

Grudgingly, Harry had to admit that Draco had done a wonderful job bringing her up by himself and their bond was very close.

Draco hugged the small girl back tightly. "I'm sure, Leo. You go and have some fun instead of being cooped up in here with your grumpy old father," he said, giving Harry a hard look over Leonora's shoulder as if to impress upon him that should anything happen to her there would be Hell to pay. Harry nodded and stood holding James' hand, waiting for Leonora to grab her bag, before she too, took Harry's hand.

Then he left the room with _both_ of his children.

* * *

Draco's heart was in his eyes as he watched his beloved Leo leave with James and Harry. A perfect little family, his mind mocked, while he constantly fought off the fear that he'd never see her again. Which was ridiculous, because Harry had no reason _that he knew of _for keeping Leo away. And Harry was a good, decent person, Draco reminded himself. He would keep his word and bring Leo back in to see him tomorrow.

His thoughts didn't give him much comfort though, as he spent the long hours of the day resting in bed, taking the potions for the fever and coughing a lot. He really hated being ill. It affected his ability to take proper care of Leo if she needed him.

Without having the children there, or Harry making him feel tense and on edge, Draco eventually relaxed and allowed himself to rest properly. By the time morning came, his fever had receded and he felt much better than the previous day. After a shower and a rather large, if unappealing, breakfast he was looking forward to seeing Leonora. He was not used to being away from her for even one night and the protective parent in him needed to be assured she was well and happy and didn't miss him too much.

By dinner time, when Harry and Leonora hadn't arrived, Draco was beginning to worry. He asked the nurses if they had been in while he was sleeping, but they shrugged and shook their heads and gave Draco the impression that keeping tabs on visitors in the ward was the least of their priorities. And to be fair, it was.

It was not until dinner time the next day without a visit from his daughter, that Draco became angry and began to demand to be allowed to contact Potter - he noticed when he reverted to calling Harry, 'Potter', because _Potter_ was pissing him off in a big way - and find out why he hadn't brought his daughter back in to visit him.

The nurses glared at him and then ignored him. When the Healer, Jocelyn, examined him on her daily rounds that evening, Draco reined in his temper and requested politely that he be allowed to contact Harry and find out why Leonora hadn't been in to see him.

"You're still infectious, Mr. Malfoy," Jocelyn replied. "You are not allowed to leave this ward until we're certain that you can't spread this disease further, you know that."

"I know but I need to find out if Leonora is alright. Potter promised he'd bring her in to see me and he hasn't. I'm worried that he…" Draco stopped, suddenly.

"I'm sure she's safe." Jocelyn smiled encouragingly at him. "She's with her father, after all and he would make sure that no harm came to her."

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock. "You…know?" he managed to squeak out, not daring to look into her face.

"Yes," she replied, kindly. "We had to check the children's magical signatures when we tested to see if they were still infectious."

Draco nodded numbly, embarrassed. Then the realisation hit him. Potter must know, too! Things fell into place rather rapidly after that. That would be why the Healer hadn't come and told him herself that Leonora was safe to leave. That would also be why… _oh God… _Potter hadn't brought Leonora back to see him. Oh no, no, no, no…this was _not_ happening. "Please don't tell me that Potter knows as well," he said, shaking, eyes darting up to the Healer's face.

She didn't answer but he saw it in her eyes and his heart dropped to his feet. "No…" he moaned and climbed out of bed. "I have to go and get her back!" he said as he bent to pick up his pants and put them on. He felt Jocelyn grip his arm, but he shrugged her off and continued dressing.

"Mr. Malfoy, you cannot leave this ward yet."

"I don't care what you say," Draco ranted. "I am leaving and collecting my daughter. Don't you understand? He's going to take her away from me and I will not let that happen!" Draco was close to screaming in his desperation to get away and find Leonora.

"And I will not let you leave." Jocelyn's firm voice just flowed past Draco. He didn't care what she said, he was leaving. He wanted his daughter and he wanted her now. He didn't see Jocelyn pressing a button on her lapel.

"She's all I have left and perfect bloody Harry Potter will take her way from me, just like he's done everything else," Draco sobbed, really quite unaware that he was being irrational. He'd managed to get his trousers on and he ripped off the hospital gown and tossed his shirt around his shoulders before picking up his shoes, shrugging off Jocelyn's arm once more and making for the door.

He didn't get very far. Two burly security guards entered the room and grabbed his arms, forcing him back into the bed. Jocelyn stuck him in the arm with a needle and the last thing he saw past his own protests was the stubble on the chin one of the guards.

From very far away he heard Jocelyn say that she would find out what she could. Only then could he stop fighting the drug, which he really had no choice but to do, and let himself slide into unconsciousness.

When he woke some time later, his wrists and ankles were strapped to the bed and the guards were stationed outside his door. He struggled in vain for as long as he could but it was futile. He was miserable and alone, unable to even wipe away the damned tears as they slid down his face. Why did Potter have to take away the only thing that meant anything to him? Leonora and his mother were the two most precious things in his life and now he was going to lose one of them.

He wished that he could stop this absurd crying but the dreadful feeling of futility just wouldn't leave him. He knew with certainty that faced with a choice of awarding custody to Potter the hero or Draco the son of a Death Eater, then they would go with the hero. Every time.

And Potter would never forgive him for keeping Leo a secret. He'd never again offer to start over, try again. Draco was fairly sure that any feelings that might have been there would have been washed away in the betrayal. God, why did this have to happen when he was weak and stuck here in hospital?

He realised he'd just have to wait until he wasn't infectious anymore, or try and trick one of the nurses into letting him go, before he could go and get his daughter back. He hoped with all his heart that she was at least happy and not upset at not seeing him. It was small comfort that he knew Potter was at heart a decent man and would take care of her well. Oh, how he missed her beautiful face looking at him with those adoring eyes. He broke again and allowed the tears to flow freely, vowing to _kill_ Potter if he upset one hair on her head.

* * *

Harry stayed away from the hospital and Draco for four days, steadfastly refusing to entertain the idea that keeping Leonora from Draco was perhaps not the best thing to do. The days spent with his daughter thrilled him immensely and he revelled in getting to know this little blonde princess. Seeing how easily she fit into his life was satisfying and he had no doubt that the three of them would make a perfect family.

But after a couple of days, Leonora had begun to ask when they were going to see her father. Harry had put her off by saying that Draco had asked for no visitors because he was a grumpy thing when he was sick. She nodded but Harry saw that she missed Draco and whilst she still laughed and played with James, it was diluted. It unsettled him.

When he tucked her up in bed on the third night away from Draco, she turned forlorn eyes towards him.

"Harry, does my father not love me anymore?" she asked.

"Of course he does," Harry responded, automatically, before looking at her more closely.

"Then why won't he see me?" she said, and her bottom lip trembled. "He always wants me to help him get better when he's sick. Is he going to die? Is that why he won't see me?"

Harry realised then, with a sickening drop in his stomach, that he wasn't just hurting Draco by acting out some petty revenge, which was childish and beneath him when it came down to it. The person he was hurting most here was Leonora. It didn't matter that she had no idea that Harry was her father. It made no difference that Harry felt betrayed and deceived and had been denied the opportunity to see Leonora grow. It was irrelevant that Harry wanted Draco to pay for all that. The only thing that mattered here was that Leonora loved Draco and Harry was distressing her by keeping her away from him. He felt like the worst kind of heel.

"No, love, he's not going to die. I tell you what," Harry said, tucking her in and kissing her on the forehead. "We'll go and see him tomorrow. Will that be alright?"

"Thank you, Harry." Her arms came up and slid around his neck for a hug and the relief and happiness in her voice cut his self-righteous anger to shreds and left him mired in his own shame.

Once she had settled down to sleep, Harry spent most of the night thinking about the situation, angry at himself for letting his hurt feelings get the better of his common sense, and wondering how he was going to deal with Draco in the morning.

A Draco who was likely to refuse to let him see Leonora again.

Not that he would let that happen. There were legal ways to get access to Leonora and he would use them if he had to. Now he knew he had a daughter, nothing was going to keep him from being an integral part of her life.

And that meant that he would have to make peace with Draco, somehow, for Leonora's sake, if nothing else. There could be no worse situation than parents at each other's throats all the time. The fighting and dislike, distrust of each other would be very stressful for her and he had no wish to make her unhappy.

Who knew if she'd be happy at the news that Harry was her father, anyway? Maybe she was too young to understand having two fathers. Maybe men carrying babies was something all purebloods learnt early on in life or just accepted as something they always knew? Ron was always telling him things after the event as if he assumed Harry knew. Maybe what happened to Draco was an aberration; a freak accident? But then Jocelyn wouldn't have tried to explain how men carried babies, would she?

Harry ran a hand through his hair. What a mess. To stay in Leonora's life with the least possible stress for her, yet still have her aware of what role he played in it, he would have to remain on friendly terms with Draco. And if he could do that, was it that much more of a leap to forgive him completely and try to work on that future for the four of them he'd wished for?

His thoughts then turned to Draco and the way he'd come to know and respect him over the past two weeks, before…before he'd found out Draco had deliberately kept Leonora from him. He thought of the way Draco loved his – their - daughter and what a great father he was. He thought of the man's eyes that so often in the past had been masked by a defence system so hard to get through, that until you did and saw what a passionate person he was, you'd never know it was there. But Harry had seen it. Had basked in it and had desired to know it more.

He thought of that one incredible night they'd spent together and how he'd left feeling guilty and ashamed. Even then he'd known that despite the guilt he didn't regret one second of it. It had been everything he'd hoped it would be and more, fulfilling every fantasy he'd ever had about Draco, made all the more poignant because he'd known it would never happed again.

But could that have all changed in the past two weeks? Draco still had whatever it was that had drawn Harry to him in the first place. The bitter tang of betrayal was still sharp enough to hurt, though, and even the thought of forgiveness stung as the desire to retaliate reared a weakened head. Silently through the fog rose a clear picture of the fragile look on Draco's face in the instant before he'd whispered his name and kissed him. Harry knew in his heart then, that in essence, all was forgiven; he was utterly lost, caught up in the hope of maybes.

* * *

The past days had not been terribly kind to Draco. The nurses had left him bound to the bed, stating bluntly that they didn't trust him not to try and get past the guards and leave the hospital again.

"You have no right to strap me to the bed," Draco yelled at them. They ignored him but eventually went and brought the Healer in to see him.

"Mr. Malfoy, you have to understand that we have an epidemic of measles out there. If I were to release you before we have ascertained that you are no longer infectious, and thus a danger to the community, then I would be held responsible for possibly hundreds more illnesses," she tried to explain. Draco wasn't very interested in 'possibles', only his 'definite' that Harry Potter had taken his daughter. "Unless you can guarantee that you will not attempt to leave this ward, then I cannot release those bindings. I have a responsibility to the community at large," she continued.

Draco glared at her. "And where was that sense of responsibility where my daughter and I were concerned?"

Jocelyn had the grace to look shamefaced. "We have done everything we can to ensure that you and Leonora are treated with the same consideration as everyone else and receive the best care possible. We made the mistake of assuming that as you and Leonora were close to Harry and James, he was aware of her parentage. If you wish to take that up with your legal counsel, then you are quite within your rights to do so when you are released from the care of this ward and not before."

"Why can't you place wards around the door, so I can at least leave this bed?" Draco asked, disgruntled and still so very angry. He understood their need to contain the disease, but it didn't help matters when his daughter's future was at risk.

Jocelyn sighed. "This is an isolation ward, Mr. Malfoy. There are wards protecting the escape of any germs into the atmosphere, but we cannot ward against people coming in and out of this room. It's against safety regulations, in case we need to access you immediately in an emergency."

"I hardly think I am going to need emergency care," Draco fumed.

"And what's to stop you faking an emergency, just to get us to lower the wards and you can escape?" Jocelyn asked, shrewdly.

"Fuck," Draco spat.

She left after giving Draco the most sympathetic look he'd ever seen anyone in this hospital give him. Oddly enough, he was grateful for it. The rest of her staff, though, were an entirely different story.

Their barely concealed contempt meant nothing to him, now. He hardly registered their half-hearted attempts to feed and bathe him and eventually they left him alone, still half dressed.

He didn't care. Whatever they did was pointless now, anyway. His whole attention was focussed on Leonora. She was in the forefront of his mind and he missed her dreadfully. He knew she'd be safe with Potter. For all that he must hate Draco now, he was a trustworthy man and he loved his son, so that love would flow onto his daughter just the same. It didn't stop the aching in his heart at the possibility she was missing him as much as he was missing her.

Fuck, he felt so damned useless! What sort of useless fucked up person was he to have ever thought, fantasised even, about the four of them making one happy family? He should have just taken Leonora and run when he saw Potter in the hospital. He should have _never _ accepted the offer of the bed! And, God help him, what the fuck did he think he was doing _kissing_ Harry bloody Potter?

What else had he expected, anyway? Potter had _always_ managed to get the better of him. Always beat him, _always_. What had made him think this time would be any different? Well, he wasn't going to lose this one. Not without fighting with every single thing he had.

"Bastard," he hissed to the empty room, and tried once more to escape the bindings, yelling in frustration when they refused to budge.

"Yes, I have been, I realise that now," came a familiar voice from the doorway. Draco's head snapped round and he saw Potter standing there.

Without even taking the time to process what Potter had said, Draco snarled and pulled on his bindings again. "Where is she, Potter?"

Potter was moving towards him and now Draco could see the distress on his face as he took in the bindings holding Draco down.

"God, Draco, what…?"

"Shut the fuck up and tell me where she is!" he screamed, half sitting up.

"She's fine. S-she's getting to know her cousins. Just…why…?"

Draco flopped back down onto the bed. When Potter made to undo the bindings, Draco growled. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Potter looked up at him, but stilled his hand. "Why not? You can't _like _being tied down like this."

Draco kept his voice very low and controlled, speaking through gritted teeth. "Because if you free me, I will kill you with my bare hands."

Luckily for Potter, he did have some brains in his head because he moved away. There was silence, then, as Draco looked up at the ceiling, taking measured breaths as he gathered himself. His fury at Potter was still there but at least he knew Leonora was safe, even if she was consorting with Weasleys.

"You'll not keep her," Draco stated bluntly. "When I get out of here, I'll…"

Potter cut him off. "I don't plan on keeping her, Draco."

Draco narrowed his eyes as he turned to look at Potter. He sat down in the chair by the bed and was watching him with intense eyes. "What?"

"I said, I don't plan on keeping her," Potter restated. "I admit, when I left here I was so livid that I intended to make sure you never saw her again."

"I knew it!" Draco hissed. "What changed your mind?"

"She did. She misses you terribly. I realised I was only hurting her and not you. And she has no idea who I am, does she?" Potter said, sounding exhausted, but there was an underlying anger in his tone and manner that Draco was still wary of.

He shook his head. "There seemed no point in telling her."

There was another silence that seemed to permeate Draco's anger further and the tendrils of guilt began to seep through the cracks, which only further deepened the silence. He chanced another glance at Potter, seeing him with his head hung low, looking at the floor.

"So, what happens now?" Draco ventured, still looking at Potter.

Potter's head rose as he shrugged. "I don't know where we go from here. I'll bring her in later to see you of course, but I think I deserve some sort of explanation."

Draco sighed. "Probably."

"Will you tell me why you kept her a secret from me all these years?" Potter's face was naked; there was raw hurt plain to see and it made Draco's regrets all the more painful.

"I meant what I said before. I was devastated when I realised that night meant nothing more to you than sex. So, when I found out I was having a child, I felt you had no right to know about it." Draco turned, eyes still brimming fiercely, towards Potter. "She was _mine_ Potter, and there was no way that you were going to take that away from me, too. As far as I knew, you hated me and to you she would be just another way to have some revenge on a Malfoy."

"I had a right to know, Draco," Potter argued.

"You had _no_ right to anything as far as I was concerned. You'd made your position crystal clear regarding your feelings about me the moment I woke up alone the next morning."

Potter's anguish was obvious. "I already explained why that happened. I already apologised."

Draco hardened his heart and scowled. "Oh, yes, the Chosen One has apologised and that's supposed to make everything alright, is it? You used me and then just tossed me aside. Why the hell would you think I owed you _anything_? "

"Well, I certainly think you owed me to fucking tell me I had a daughter," Potter exploded, red-faced and angry.

"Why?" Draco yelled back. "If you'd been in my position, knowing you had a child by someone who hated you, what would you have done?"

"I would have told you!" Potter shouted back.

"Bullshit!" Draco yelled, bluntly. "Don't give me all your self righteous bullshit, Potter."

"I would have been honest with you," Potter stressed.

"Like you were honest with me about being drunk that night? Funny how it took you more than six years to be honest," Draco countered. Potter subsided at that accusation. "You're a damned hypocrite," Draco pushed. Potter looked up sharply at him then, the anger still flashing in his eyes.

"I rather think this is a bit different than me not being up front about how much I wanted you back then. About how obsessed I was with you and how much I needed to have you in my arms for just a night. Fine, I knew you hated me, I knew you'd laugh and torment me about it if you knew, but I also knew that I wouldn't remember a thing about it unless I was sober and I wanted more than anything to remember every single sigh and intake of your breath. Every bloody touch and taste and smell and the way you moved under me, like molten liquid. The way you felt, hot and slick around me, and the way your eyes darkened to stormy grey when you came. I wanted one night, you've taken away six years, Draco," Potter's voice was heavy and rough and Draco could see that he was repressing some deep emotion that was not merely anger, but the pain of rejection.

"I didn't hate you. How could I hate you after you saved my life? I wanted you so much and I figured the only way I would be brave enough to even approach you was to get rid of the inhibitions with alcohol. That way, if you rejected me, I could at least blame my stupidity on the drink." Draco's voice was harsh in his bitter honesty. They were both complete idiots if truth be told.

All the fight seemed to drain out of Draco. There didn't seem to be much point in yelling at each other anymore. "Anyway," he continued after a lengthy silence where Draco figured they were both examining where they stood now. "I already forgave you for that."

"We both should have been honest with each other a long time ago," Potter said, quietly. "It might have saved a lot of heartache."

"True," Draco nodded. "It would have made things a lot different. Too different, perhaps. You don't regret your time with the Weaslette – er Ginny, do you? You have James because of her and I can see how much you love him."

"No, of course I don't regret it. I loved Ginny a lot. It hurts me to see James growing up without her. It's one of the reasons I am so angry with you for not telling me about Leonora. I think she deserves to know about me and have me in her life."

"And if I don't want to tell her?" Draco asked. "What if I want things to go back to the way they were?"

"Things will never be that way again." Draco could hear the resolve in Harry's voice. "And you know it. What are you afraid of? I already said I wasn't going to take her away from you. She loves you and she should be with you but she should also know who I am."

"Why? Why can't you just leave us alone? I was- I had everything under control. I had almost everything I could ever have wanted. And now you come into it and turn it upside down; change it into something I never thought I'd have to deal with. I don't want to have to deal with you; I don't want to have to tell her anything about you!" Draco scowled

"But you do," Harry said, smiling briefly.

"How do you know," Draco asked, narrowing his eyes. Because of course, bloody Harry Potter was right. He did want to tell Leonora, now that he was sure Harry wasn't planning on taking her away from him. Harry was also right in that Leonora did deserve to have him in her life. He was just afraid of making his feelings for Harry obvious and then being rejected, because sure as Merlin was the greatest wizard that ever lived, there was no way Harry would want to have a relationship with him after this betrayal. And Draco didn't blame him.

Harry moved to sit on the edge of Draco's bed and suddenly Draco felt extremely vulnerable not being able to move or defend himself or…anything.

"You want to tell her because it's the right thing to do and you want me in your life as much as in hers. That kiss told me everything I needed to know. You still want me."

"I was quite delusional at the time, if I remember correctly," Draco said, gulping because Harry's hand was sliding seductively along his calf.

"Oh, right," Harry replied smirking, continuing with feather-like touches over his kneecap.

"Po-Harry, stop it. Aren't you supposed to still be so angry with me, you could hex me into next week?" Draco's voice had become shaky and good _God_ Harry's hand wasn't stopping at his knee!

"Oh, I'm still angry with you Draco. I am still extremely angry with you and you will spend long into the foreseeable future making it up to me," Harry replied, leaning forward and brushing his lips over Draco's still exposed chest. Why oh why hadn't he bothered to let the nurses dress him properly? "I'd say at least the next six years, wouldn't you?"

"Six years?" Draco repeated, faintly. Harry's hand was ghosting over his crotch and all he could think of was how he could feel the heat from Harry's hand, so close, and how Harry's breath raised goose bumps on his skin. He desperately tried to pull himself together, barely preventing himself from lifting his hips to press his groin into those warm hands, settling for twitching spasmodically instead. "Is that all I'll be allowed then?" he asked frantically trying to regain some sort of composure, some dignity.

Draco caught an evil glint in Harry's eyes when he dared look at him. "Oh, no," Harry said smoothly, placing the softest of kisses on his stomach, just above his navel, which made Draco arch his back and try for more. "After six years, I expect that you will have made me so happy and content with our beautiful family that I won't ever want to leave. Is that what you want, Draco?"

Maddeningly, Harry's hand still hovered over his cock, which was now hardening pleasurably. Draco whimpered as he gave in to temptation, thrusting his hips upwards, only to be thwarted by an alert Harry who snickered, moving his hand away.

"Fuck," Draco exclaimed, struggling against the bindings again in frustration. After only a few moments, he realised the futility and relaxed back on the mattress. "Will you actually ever forgive me for not telling you about Leonora? Or are you going to make me pay for it every single day?" He was aware that he sounded abrupt but damn it, Harry was teasing him. Draco decided that Harry wasn't a decent man after all, he was an evil tease who was going to drive him into an early grave if he didn't bloody well just _do_ something about this hard on he'd created!

"That depends on how good you are, Draco," Harry teased once more, and Draco almost screamed in exasperation watching Harry sit up, depriving Draco of the lips against his skin. "I'm actually enjoying this. You look good enough to eat. So, I'll ask you the same question I asked you before you kissed me. Can we try again?"

He caught Harry's eyes then and time seemed to stand still for Draco, painfully aroused and breathing heavily. The beating of his heart sounded loudly in his ears and the deep green of Harry's eyes showed that despite the controlled exterior he wasn't at all sure about the answer Draco would give him. There was undisguised hope there, a deep fear and a longing plea.

"How could you even want me after what I did?" Draco asked, the ache of regret caught in a ball in his chest.

"At first I didn't. I was so angry and hurt but once I could see past that I found that you're infuriatingly hard to forget," Harry whispered in reply, giving just the ghost of a deprecating smile. Draco felt Harry's fingers curl into his own and squeeze them lightly. "I don't want to miss this chance and let you go again."

For the longest moment Draco lost himself in the eddy of emotions flowing from Harry's eyes. It was like a dream; some divine forces had aligned and decided that Draco deserved more happiness than he ever could have realistically hoped for. They could be like a proper family eventually: the four of them. Leonora had brought him so much happiness and fulfillment in her life so far but this would be all of his fantasies come true. They could work out the details later; for now it was enough to know that there would be details to work out. A future.

"Yes," he whispered, because there really was no other answer and Harry's smile lit up Draco's world and expanded his chest with pure exultation even as Harry claimed his lips in a possessive, demanding kiss.

With surprising grace, Harry moved and covered Draco's body with his own. Every part of his body seemed to be touching a part of Harry's and he wasn't surprised to find that the soft moans he heard were coming from himself. He wanted, needed to touch Harry, to wrap his arms and legs around him while he rocked against him to completion. This, he knew, was what he'd been missing all these years. This heaven of having Harry above him, holding him tenderly, his warm lips branding Draco's own with his unique flavour.

"Harry," he gasped, breaking the kiss momentarily to breathe. "Get these blasted bindings off me. I have to touch you to make it real."

Harry's hips rolled against his and Draco could feel the hard sliding friction of their erections rubbing together. He looked up into Harry's face; saw kiss brightened lips, and his heart soared once more.

"On one condition," Harry said, voice catching as their hips met again.

"Anything," Draco panted.

"You tell me about Wizarding birth control for men. Two kids are enough."

"For now," Draco said. "Besides, you can have the next one, Potter. I'm not ruining this figure again."

"You wish, Malfoy," Harry laughed as he removed all the bindings and set about finishing what he started.

The end.


End file.
